An Ending
by Teague-Drydan
Summary: Herald Braqc's caught by some former 'friends'--can he escape?


**I don't own any of it xcept 4 MY own characters and the plot.**

the lyrics were written by either Lackey or one of her friends.

a cautionary word: this story is more violent than my other ones, so...read at your won risk.

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But will our enemies be fair nor come on us behind?

**And will they stay their tongues or in words a weapon find?**

**Or wait 'til we are rested before making their attacks?**

**Or will they rather beat us down and then go for our backs?**

_Damn!_ I thought as one of the attackers got past my guard and slashed my rib lightly. _I should have been paying more attention._ I clamped my long legs around Kadin as she kicked out her hind legs. The landing was rather rough and I lost my seat, tossing me to the ground where one of the attackers held a knife to my throat.

"Move, _horse_, and he's dead!" the man said, his voice rough from years of misuse, beer, and smokes. "Stand up, white boy." He pulled at my short-cropped hair; I quickly stood up, my head being somewhat tender. "Now, move. Any wrong move an' she's dead, ya hear that?"

I grunted my acknowledgement. I would have nodded but he still had a hold of my hair and I didn't dare say a word for fear of slitting my own throat. One of the other attackers, the leader addressed him as 'Frog', bound my hands sharply behind my back. I managed a glance at Kadin before Frog aimed a good punch at my right eye, she was being hobbled, her greatest fear.

:_These riff-raffs seemed to have done their research._: Kadin sent as one man took a crop to her rear, urging her on. :_They know what we fear most._:

:_We'll get out of this somehow._: I told my beloved, trying to sound far braver than I truly felt. :_I just wish they had waited another half-candlemark. Then you would have been within range of Talbot._:

:_There's nothing we can do about that. Love, be careful._: Kadin sent, love echoing through her words.

:_Right back at ya, love. We'll be fine. We'll get out of this._: I told Kadin, trying to bolster our courage.

A candlemark later, we were led into a stone fortress. The portcullis clashed down behind us ominously. _We're not going to get out of this_, I thought mournfully. In the courtyard, Kadin and I were separated; Kadin went down a steep ramp that probably led to some sort of stables, and I was sent up a steep set of stairs and through a couple of doors and was finally slapped down to the stone floor of a great hall.

Even though it was high summer, the hall had the chill of winter; I was soon shivering in my light summer Whites.

"So, we finally meet, _Herald_." Someone drawled from somewhere above my head. "Were we too good for you, scum? Or, _Herald Braqc,_ should I call you Skid?" I jerked my head up at this. No one had called me that for _years_. Not since I'd left... "Ah, I see you remember, White Demon. Well, we have a special homecoming present waiting for you, _zhoonroth_. Take him away." At the mention of _zhoonroth_, I turned deathly white, whiter even, than my Whites.

'Lord' Farce may not be the ruling party but whoever this was, he was even crueler than 'Old' Farce had been. This man was going to enforce ruling that had been made over fifteen years ago.

:_Love, we're in far worse than I ever thought. My old 'friends' have caught up with me. They are going to perform _zhoonroth_ on me._: I gulped, just thinking it. _I wish I were dead..._

:_What does that mean, zhoonroth?_: Kadin asked, innocent in the ways this barbaric 'tribe' worked.

:_It's _zhoonroth,_ Kadi, and it's too awful to describe. But, please, when they start, _lock me out. I don't want you in my head._ I—I don't think I—we—will be able to endure it. I love you more than anything, Kadin, and I'm sorry for any grief I may have caused._: I told my Companion.

I was now being bodily dragged through halls that were once familiar. Halls that once haunted my every breath. Halls I only once managed a successful escape from out of dozens.

I soon heard screams coming from behind closed doors and up long, darkened staircases. My two guards were talking to each other in the Secret Language (very creative name, isn't it? The man who created it wasn't very good at naming things. He'd had two kids, a boy and a girl and had named them Man and Chit, respectively, or so I had heard). I was dragged to the lowest, dankest, darkest dungeon this castle had. They slammed me into the holding braces, making them tighter than tight.

I have no real idea about how long I was in the damn blood-constricting things, but someone finally showed up. It was my old 'buddy', Dog Teeth. He came down ranting and raving about all the 'wrongs' I had done to him (never mind that he had dragged me into it, and that I was the smart one to escape the things before we got caught) and talked up and down the Pit of Darkness before the final punishment came down. It was the _zhoonroth_, or so I thought, and I was lucky I blacked out early.

_I was in the salle; Alberich was dressing me down for not cooling down before doing something. My usually tough emotional guards were slammed down and tears began to leak onto my face..._

**He goads his students into rage; he drives them into pain;**

**He mocks them and he does not care that tears may fall like rain.**

**He works them when they're weary and rebukes them when they fail—**

**Cuts them to ribbons with his tongue as they stand meek and pale—**

_Again, I was in the salle, only this time, Alberich was giving a lecture on what to do when caught and interrogated by the enemy..._

I woke up screaming. My left hand was detached and laying on the floor in front of me. Both my legs were broken beyond help, all my ribs were either fractured or broken, my brain felt like it had just finished a 100-furlong dash in less than one minute, and was banging against my skull. My throat was raw from thirst and over-use.

The room was empty, for how long it had been, I don't know. When I heard a door slam, I cringed and prepared myself for another bout.

"What'd ya do, Dog Teeth? Kill 'im?" Slash asked, sarcastically.

"Naw, I just 'reminded' him of all the times he'd run out on me." Dog Teeth waved his hand in dismissal. "It's only the beginning of his _zhoonroth_. Heh, heh, heh. He's in luck—Hang Man's back from his...search."

Both men laughed maniacally as they ascended the stairs, slipping occasionally on the slippery steps.

After awhile, I realized that no one was going to come down the steps I knew so well. :_Love? How are you doing?_: I sent during one of the lulls in the pain.

:_Sore. They won't take those damned hobbles off!_: Kadin ranted, :_Ah, but don't worry about m--_:

"Nononono! Noooooo!" I had another 'visitor', one I did not know, but he got his point across. "AHHHH!"

"No more of that talking, rat. I make the rules and you will follow them if you wish a quick death." The man released his hold on my stump, after giving it on more hard twist. "Now, introduction. I know all about you, Skid, but you don't know me...or at least, not very well." He was pacing up and down as if he was trying to get a particularly hard point across. "I am Hang Man, formerly known as Granger. "He paused and I caught my breath. Granger was the...guard, I guess you can say, that I tricked into letting me out of the castle proper. I had heard as I was fleeing that he had a huge grudge against me. "I see you remember me. Good tidings and all that," he sneered. "'nough chatter, let's get down to business..."

For the next two and half candlemarks, hoarse screams could be heard floating up through the floors. Mothers clutched their children close as they slept; fearing some sort of demon was now under Rothban's control. In the stables, some stable hands noticed the new, pretty mare thrash around wildly and then drop dead right as the screams ceased.

In Haven, the Death Bell began to ring, signaling the death of a Herald. Many gathered in the Companion's field, but no one could console the former-Weaponsmaster Alberich.

:_Thank you, Weaponsmaster Alberich. Thank you..._: a ghosting of a mindvoice drifted through Alberich's thoughts. :_Without your training...Thank you..._:

**And now you know the face within hid by the face without**

**The pain that he must harbor, all the guilt and all the doubt.**

**The Weaponsmaster has a heart; so grand his stony mask**

**For you and I aren't strong enough to bear that kind of task.**

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I have included **_The Face Within_** lyrics, I believe that you can also find the lyrics at the end of the third Arrows book. These may be slightly modified as I have a CD (which can be purchased at , it's entitle _Heralds, Healers and Havoc_, I think) with this song on it and someone may have altered the lyrics for a better flow and rhythm.The Face Within 

The Weaponsmaster has no heart; his hide is iron-cold

His soul within that hide is steel; or so I have been told.

His only care is for your skill, his only love his own.

And where another has a heart, he has marble stone.

That's what the common wisdom holds, but common is not true.

For there is often truth behind what's in the common view.

And so it is the Herald's task that hidden truth to win

To see behind the face without and find the face within.

He goads his students into rage, he drives them into pain;

He mocks them and he does not care that tears may fall like rain.

He works them when they're weary and rebukes them when they fail—

Cuts them to ribbons with his tongue as they stand meek and pale—

But will our enemies be fair nor come on us behind?

And will they stay their tongues or in words a weapon find?

Or wait 'til we are rested before making their attacks?

Or will they rather beat us down and then go for our backs?

But he has no compassion, does not care for man or beast—

And when a student's gone, he does not notice in the least—

And no one calls this man their love, and no one calls him friend

And none can judge by his face, or what he may intend.

But I have seen him speak the word that brings hope from despair—

Or drop the one-word compliment that makes a student care—

And I have seen his sorrow when he hears the Death Bell cry—

His soul-deep agony of doubt that nothing can deny—

For on his shoulders rests the job of fitting us for war

With nothing to give him the clue of what to train us for.

And if he fails it is not he that pays, but you and I—

And so he dies a little when he hears the Death Bell cry.

And now you know the face within hid by the face without

The pain that he must harbor, all the guilt and all the doubt.

The Weaponsmaster has a heart; so grand his stony mask

For you and I aren't strong enough to bear that kind of task.

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Thank you for reading this. Hope you have a better day than poor Braqc did...

littlereddragkin


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